


there's no need to worry when you see just where we're at

by pastlives



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:49:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastlives/pseuds/pastlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's woken up by his phone buzzing on the nightstand next to his bed. The bright lights on his alarm tell him it's a good thirteen minutes before his alarm goes off, and he curses whoever is texting him right now. He sits up, bleary eyed, and unlocks his phone. The text is from Harry.</p>
<p>‘<i>Is it okay if I miss you?</i> ’</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's no need to worry when you see just where we're at

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a series of text messages to a friend quite awhile ago, back in October or something, found it saved on my phone and decided to clean it up and post it because tour is getting to me. It's self-beta'd, short, and pretty self-indulgent. Title's from "Please Don't Say You Love Me" by Gabrielle Aplin.

Nick's woken up by his phone buzzing on the nightstand next to his bed. The bright lights on his alarm tell him it's a good thirteen minutes before his alarm goes off, and he curses whoever is texting him right now. He sits up, bleary eyed, and unlocks his phone. The text is from Harry.  
  
‘ _Is it okay if I miss you?_ ’ _  
_  
Nick's chest tightens as his eyes skim over the words once, twice, three and four times total. He sighs. He misses Harry, probably more than he should, and he's not sure how he feels about it. It's kind of domestic, he thinks, and Nick doesn't do domestic. He's not even sure why he misses Harry as much as he does (yes he does), because it's not like Harry hasn't been flitting off to odd countries throughout the majority of their friendship. But.  
  
But this time they're not just friends anymore.  
  
He rubs at his eyes, still adjusting to the bright light in the middle of darkness, and taps out a response.  
  
‘ _who is this again? i haven't got your number in my phone. soz_ ’  
  
Harry's reply is instant.  
  
' _Miss you. x_ '  
  
  
  
Nick gets out of the studio surprisingly early, just as it's turning midday, and makes a quick stop to pick up a salad for lunch. He ends up stuck behind a few people waiting for it to be made, so he decides to give Harry a call, not even caring about time differences. Harry always answers.  
  
The phone rings three times before he's greeted with, "Nick Grimshaw. Hello."  
  
Nick snorts. "Hi, Louis. You alright?"  
  
"M'not, actually. Was just forced to listen to your entire show. Your laugh is atrocious, did you know that?"  
  
"I actually do think you've mentioned it before. You know, every time you talk-- wait, _what_? You listened to the show?"  
  
Nick can hear Louis' smirk when he replies. "Yeah. Harry and I got the biggest room and convinced everyone to come over to drink and wind down, yet somehow all we did was listen to you and watch Harry try to hide a smile while going through the minibar. He succeeded only a little bit, mainly due to Niall beating him to most of the drinks." Nick's unsure what to say to that, kind of feels like he’s about to freak out. There’s a mix of pride, confusion, and something else he doesn't want to think about swirling through his thoughts, when he hears a squeak come from the other side of the phone and then a loud rustling noise before someone speaks.  
  
"Oh my god, hi. I'm sorry. Lou’s been a dick all night." It's Harry, and Nick hears Louis hit him for his comment. "The, um, show was good. Showbot’s sick as always. Tell Fincham he's killing it." Harry's talking slower than usual, but also louder, his voice lightly laced with intoxication. "What's up? Everything alright?"  
  
 _Oh, nothing, just wanting to hear your voice_ , Nick thinks, but instead says, "In line at that place you like for a salad. It's taking ages, thought I'd say hello. Since you miss me and all."  
  
Nick hears Harry make a noise in the back of his throat, and then the click of a door. "I was serious, y'know," Harry says. Then, quieter, "I really miss you. We passed this thrift shop earlier and all I could think of was you. Smelled like you, even." Nick can hear the uneasiness in Harry's voice and he sucks in a breath.  
  
The thing with Harry is. Well. A _Thing_ , and Nick is blown away by it every day. The first time anything had happened between them was the night after Harry returned from the American tour. Harry had crashed at Nick's immediately after dropping his things back at his flat and ended up sleeping in Nick's guest room for roughly sixteen hours. Nick had gone to dinner then work the next night and found himself coming home to Harry curled up in his bed with take out and reality television. He was wearing one of Nick's shirts, wrapped up in Nick's comforter, hair all over the place. Nick had never seen him look so good.  
  
"Morning, Rapunzel," Nick had joked.  
  
Harry's eyes flitted to Nick's doorway and lit up. He smiled and pulled back the covers next to him. "Sleeping Beauty? Rapunzel's the one with the hair," he said.  
  
"Mm, so are you," Nick laughed as he toed off his shoes and got into bed. "Y'alright, though? You were out all day. Barely said anything to me when you came barging in last night." He pulled one of Harry's curls and grabbed a piece of chicken out of his take out container.  
  
"Sorry, was so tired. Intercontinental flights are shit, man. How was the show?" Harry curled closer to Nick, handing him the chopsticks to share his dinner. Nick shook his head, declining, and put his arm around Harry's shoulder. Harry sighed softly.  
  
"It was fine. I'm knackered, though. Might call it an early one. You okay staying up by yourself? I'd feel bad, but it's what you did to me last night, so I don't really give a shit."  
  
Harry laughed, closed his container of food and sat it on the nightstand. "Nah, I could definitely use some more sleep. Mind if I sleep in here?" Nick sighed, acting as if it was a hardship, but opened his arms for Harry to curl into. Harry pushed himself closer, nosing into Nick's neck. "Thanks. You smell good."  
  
Nick pulled away to reach over Harry and turn off the light. "Do I ever smell bad?"  
  
Harry laughed and shook his head. "Of course not," he said, "let's get some sleep." Before realizing what he was doing, he had leaned up and kissed Nick softly. He pulled away abruptly, eyes wide, cursing. "Shit! Shit, fuck, I didn't mean-"  
  
"It's fine. You're tired." Nick chuckled, trying to be put together for Harry even though his heart was beating a mile a minute. "What's a snog between friends?" He leaned down to kiss Harry again, intending to be quick and get his point across, but Harry whined, placed his hands in Nick's hair and pushed against him. Harry had wasted no time and slid his tongue across Nick's upper lip, moaning slightly when Nick parted for him. Harry's grip had gotten tighter on his hair and his tongue was mapping Nick's mouth, desperately trying to discover every crevice possible.  
  
Nick had freaked out. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it prior -- it was _Harry_ , he wasn't stupid -- but he never expected anything more than friendship. Harry was one of his best mates and he was happy with that, ecstatic even. He hadn’t planned on taking it further.  
  
It hadn’t escalated too quickly; they didn't even get further than snogging that first night. They had separated, Harry smiling wider than Nick had ever seen him, curled close and fell asleep, and that was it. Until about a week later, when Harry drunkenly sat on his lap and whispered a slow and deep " _please, Grimmy_ " into his ear. Then it just kind of sailed on from there.  
  
Now, however, some four months later, Nick was fucked.  
  
Nick breathes out slowly, replying to Harry with a, "you too. I'm not- I’m not used to saying things of this sort, but. Y'know."  
  
"Really?" Nick can hear the smile in Harry's voice. His tone changes quickly though as he rushes out his next words. “Because. I didn’t want to like, overstep? I just-”  
  
"A bit, yeah. More than, actually," and because Nick doesn’t know how to be serious, not in situations like this, he adds, “unfortunately.”  
  
He hears Harry start to reply, a long whine of “ _hey”_ on his tongue, when there's a loud bang on Harry’s end and he hears him yell a clipped response. "Shit, Niall's so pissed. I should probably make sure he gets back to his room fine before Paul finds out."  
  
"Typical Niall," Nick says, causing Harry to laugh. "Go to bed, you need to be beautiful for the American masses.”  
  
"Yeah," Harry replies, trailing off. "We come back in eight days. I-"  
  
"Eight days? I thought I'd get away from you for real this time!" Nick knows Harry's smiling, knows Harry thinks he's an idiot because he knows Harry _knows_.  
  
"You'll never get rid of me." Harry doesn't say it in a joking manner, and something in Nick's chest tightens.  
  
"No," he replies softly, "I don't think I will. Goodnight, popstar."

 


End file.
